


Sex, Lies and Videotape

by the_random_writer



Series: Separated Twins [16]
Category: Bourne (Movies), RED (Movies), The Bourne Supremacy (2004)
Genre: Brothers, Computers, Crossover, Gen, Hacking, In-Laws, Lock Picking, Separated Twins, Sex, Sex Tapes, Sisters, Sneaking Around, Twins, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-03 22:17:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14006004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_random_writer/pseuds/the_random_writer
Summary: A crossover where William Cooper from 'RED' and Kirill from 'The Bourne Supremacy' are identical twins.Born in Berlin to an American mother and a Russian father, the twins were separated at the age of ten by their parents' divorce. William went to the United States with their mother, while Kirill went to the Soviet Union with their father.When Kirill talks his girlfriend into a naughty, late-night adventure, he accidentally causes a massive problem—a problem only William can solve...Takes place in October 2011.





	Sex, Lies and Videotape

As quickly and quietly as he could, William padded along the hall, heading back to the elegant suite at the far south end of the floor. "Just me," he called out as he stepped into the room.

He closed and locked the door behind him, wincing as the hinges squeaked. Not that anyone would hear the sound. Everyone had gone to bed almost an hour and a half ago, and even if any of the other five adults in the building were still awake, they were either a floor or side of the house away.

Correction—a floor or side of the _mansion_ away. No building as massive and rambling as this could ever be described as a house. Normal people lived in a house, and normal was something Andrew and Helen McNally would absolutely _never_ be.

"Kids okay?" Michelle asked, the splashing sounds telling him she was still in the bath.

"Both completely out for the count. Didn't even hear me come in."

"And Boomer?"

"Took him with me on my perimeter check, let him run a couple of rabbits back into the ground, then put him in the garage for the night." Boomer was housebroken and well-behaved—sometimes better behaved than the kids—but Michelle's parents had never really been animal lovers, so he wasn't allowed indoors overnight.

"How'd he take it?" Michelle asked.

"Whined like a baby then gave me a look like I was leaving him to die in the dark."

"It's only one night, and the garage is heated. Sure he'll be fine. Better than being left on his own back at the house."

"Not sure he'd agree with you there. Least if we'd left him back at the house, he'd be sleeping in a familiar place."

"You know as well as I do he'd end up sleeping on our bed."

William smiled. "Probably, yeah." He glanced at the carriage clock on the shelf—it was coming up on quarter to twelve. "You gonna stay in that bath all night?"

"Thinking about it."

"You're gonna turn into a prune."

"It's nice and warm."

"So's the bed."

Especially with him on hand to slowly and carefully heat her up in places the water couldn't reach.

"I haven't finished my glass of wine."

That reminded him—he'd left his own half-empty glass on the table. He leaned over to scoop it up and take a mouthful of what was left. It was fine as far as red wine went, but not as good as his favourite beer.

"You know, all things considered, I think today went pretty well," he said.

"In what sense?"

Still holding his glass in one hand, he reached down to pull his sleeping shirt out of his bag. "Kirill and Kate coming out to your folks as a couple." He remembered his own first weekend with Andrew and Helen—it had been nowhere _near_ as pleasant as what he'd witnessed today. "Wish they'd gone that easy on me when I first met them back in oh-one."

"Maybe my mom and dad just like Kirill more than they like you."

William paused and frowned. "Did one of them tell you that?"

"Course they didn't. I'm _kidding_."

"Okay, good. I think."

He finished his wine, abandoned his glass, then sat on the bed to take off his pants. He pulled off his sweater and threw both items of clothing over a nearby chair.

"But Kirill _did_ bring my dad a box of his favourite cigars."

"Yeah, and who do you think told Kirill to buy the damn things?" William protested, pulling his sleeping t-shirt on. "You know how clueless he is with gifts, especially when they're for other men. You think he came up with that all by himself?"

"Maybe you should have bought the box of cigars yourself, left Kirill to bring some golf balls or wine."

"Knowing my luck, I'd buy the cigars the week your dad decided to give them up. Hand him another reason to be disappointed in me."

Michelle sighed. "My parents _do_ like you, honey."

"Really? Could've fooled me."

"But I _do_ agree they gave Kirill and Kate a much easier time today than they gave us back in oh-one."

"So I'm _not_ imagining things."

"You're not, no."

"Would give both of my eye teeth to know what the hell I did wrong. Kirill's my identical twin, so it can't be because they think he's better looking than me."

"I think they've just formed a very different first impression of him."

William huffed. "Obviously, yeah."

"And I also think the way they treat you is because I'm their oldest child," Michelle explained. "Mom and dad have always set much higher standards for me than for Daniel or Kate, so they automatically set much higher standards for you as well."

"Doesn't seem very fair."

As usual, Michelle adopted a sensible, philosophical stance. "Lots of things about life aren't fair."

"You mean like Greg being given the Lamson case when you're way more qualified than him?"

He heard her snort. "Like Greg being given the Lamson case, yeah."

"Sure you'll come up with a way to make the senior partners regret their decision."

"Won't have to. Greg's an idiot who can barely find his ass with both hands. He'll make them regret it all on his own."

Grinning, William asked, "Ever bother you? The stricter treatment from your parents, I mean."

"Not so much now, but when I was in my teens and twenties, yeah. Especially when I saw how they subsequently treated Kate. I expected them to go easy on Dan because he was the only boy, and I knew they had this old-fashioned idea that boys should have more freedom than girls, but Kate got away with absolute murder as well." She paused to finally pull the plug. "I guess by the time Kate was in her twenties herself, they'd learned to let some of their hang-ups go."

"Makes sense," William agreed. "Even people with as much of a stick up their ass as your parents eventually mellow with time."

"I guess so." He heard her step out onto the mat, then say, "I also think them going fairly easy on Kirill has something to do with Kate's personal life."

"Oh?"

"When I introduced you to my folks, I'd only had two other really serious boyfriends, both of them nice, respectable guys. Kate's coming up on a dozen, and some of them have been pretty bad."

"Like the guy who made replica swords?"

"He was sweet, and he treated her well, but he didn't exactly have the most normal or stable of jobs."

"So, you think your parents have decided to accept Kate being with Kirill because they're basically too fed up to object?"

"Something like that, yeah. Pretty sure if she'd brought Kirill home eight years ago, my dad would have shut the door in his face."

"To be fair, wanting to shut the door in his face is a fairly common reaction when you're dealing with Kir."

"Funny."

"That's what I thought."

"Plus, there's the age thing as well. You were twenty-eight when you met my folks, and only six months out of the Corps. You were a nice, polite, middle-class boy with an ingrained respect for authority figures, and you _really_ wanted my parents to like you."

"You saying I tried too hard?"

He swore he could hear her grin. "You were a _tiny_ bit earnest, yeah."

"Earnest, sure, let's go with that."

"Whereas Kirill's coming up on forty, and practically radiates not giving a crap about other people's opinions, especially their opinions of him."

"So your dad's decided not to pick on Kirill, cus he knows it'll go right over Kirill's head."

"Exactly."

William's lips twitched. "So what I'm hearing out of this is, if I want my next set of in-laws to like me, I either have to intimidate them as much as I can, or pick a woman who's the youngest child, and who has a series of disastrous relationships behind her?"

"I'm sorry, what next set of in-laws are we talking about here?"

He shrugged, not that she could see. "Just keeping my options open, honey. Case you don't quite work out."

"Keep talking like that, _honey_ , the only thing you'll be working out is how to share a dog bed with Boomer."

"Works for me. Least Boomer doesn't snore."

She smacked something down on the counter, probably her wooden brush. "Okay, Cooper, that's two for two," she warned. "You wanna go for a third and have me call your ass out?"

He grinned as he pulled the bed covers back. "Nah, I'm good," he said, climbing in.

"Real smart choice."

"What can I say? I'm a real smart guy."

"You married me, so that goes without saying."

She emerged from the bathroom, washed and dried, her hair freshly brushed, smiling slightly, wearing a beautiful, thigh-high, green and gold slip.

"That's new," he approvingly said, gesturing for her to give him a twirl.

Arms out, she slowly spun round, revealing the plunging, cross-strap back. "Popped into Coup de Foudre last week," she said. "Wanted something nice to wear for our weekend away."

"I like it. The colours really bring out your eyes."

She left her glass on the chest of drawers, walked to the bed, lifted the covers on her side, slid in and scooted over to give him a kiss. "Much nicer than the pajamas I wore the first time we stayed here together, right?" she murmured.

"You mean the red flannel pajamas you modelled for me in various ways at 2am in your father's office?" he murmured back between increasingly tender kisses. He laid a gentle hand on her thigh.

"Surprised you remember them."

"I remember taking the matching panties off with my teeth," he said, trailing kisses down her neck.

She leaned her head back, exposing her collar bone and shoulder. "You remember what we did on that desk?"

"Honey, even when I'm ninety and senile, I'll _still_ remember what we did on that desk."

"It _was_ the night Andrew was conceived."

He shrugged slightly and came back up to plant another kiss on her mouth. "If you're gonna be naughty, you might as well be _outrageously_ naughty." He pushed her back to lie on the bed and ran his hand up further up her thigh. As he hooked his thumb over the elastic band of her panties, he remembered something that made him smirk.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Was gonna suggest we go for an encore performance for old time's sake, maybe _without_ the getting you pregnant bit, but I'd be worried about bumping into Kirill and Kate."

"Why would we bump into Kirill and Kate?"

"I _might_ have accidentally told Kirill what you and I did down in your father's office the first time we stayed here together."

She pulled back to give him a disapproving glare. "And?"

"He was really impressed, but I think he took the story as a personal challenge." He shrugged again. "You know how Kir is. Anything I can do, he can do better."

He felt her tense. "You think he'll have persuaded Kate to go try something in the office?"

"She _is_ pretty persuadable. And she loves to stick it to the man."

"But they _can't_ ," Michelle said, shoving him away.

"Why the hell not? They're not gonna get caught, if that's what you're worried about. Your mom and dad both sleep like the dead, and the office is at the other end of the house from their room." He patted the bed. " _This_ bedroom's right above it, so if anyone's gonna hear them, it's us."

She shook her head. "It's not about how much noise they make."

"Then what?"

"There's a _security camera_ in the office."

"Since when?!"

"Since my dad installed one four months ago. He showed the system to me this morning when I was reviewing some legal contracts for him."

"What kind of camera?"

"The kind that records to a drive, with a motion sensor, and infrared and night vision modes."

William's blood ran cold. "Oh, _fuck_."

"Exactly."

"Who the hell puts a security camera _inside_ their office?" he exclaimed as he threw back the covers to roll out of bed, all thoughts of passion pushed aside. He moved to the table to pick up his phone.

"It's because of what dad keeps in his safe. The insurance company wouldn't cover the contents unless he either walled up the door that goes out to the deck, or installed an internal security system."

William opened a text message to his brother, praying he wasn't too late. OPERATION COPYCAT, ABORT he typed, knowing Kirill would understand. REPEAT, OPERATION COPYCAT, ABORT.

It didn't take long for his twin to respond. But Kirill and Kate were far more to the night owl end of the scale than anyone else in the house, so they were probably still up and about, watching TV or reading some books. Or having massive amounts of sex, which seemed to be how they filled most of their leisure hours.

CANNOT was his sibling's reply.

Kirill and his stubborn streak. For once, could his idiot younger brother not simply do what the hell he was told? TOO DANGEROUS, ABORT William texted back.

CANNOT Kirill messaged again. Then the words that ruined the mood. OPERATION COPYCAT SUCCESSFULLY CONCLUDED.

William let out a strangled groan.

"What's wrong?" Michelle asked.

WHY TOO DANGEROUS? Kirill wanted to know.

"We're too late," William told his wife. "They've been and done the dirty already."

Time to ruin Kirill's mood, too.

CAMERA IN OFFICE, M-SENSOR, I-RED, N-VISION

"Oh, shit," Michelle muttered.

OH SHIT was Kirill's reply.

"Oh, shit is right."

William's phone buzzed again.

U BROUGHT YOUR LAPTOP? Kirill asked.

OF COURSE

MEET ME IN DINING ROOM IN 5, BRING LAPTOP WITH U

WHY?

CAMERA RECORDS TO SD CARD?

PROBABLY

LAPTOP HAS SD SLOT

GOTCHA

He saw where Kirill was going now. If the camera was one of the models that recorded footage to an SD card in the base, he could remove the card, load it into the laptop, find and delete the incriminating files, then stick the card back in the camera and reboot the device, and nobody would be any the wiser.

He pulled on his jeans and hunkered down to dig his laptop out of his bag.

"Where the hell are you going with that?" Michelle asked.

"To save your sister and my brother from a _very_ ugly Sunday morning that no amount of not giving a crap won't get either of them out of," he said. "Gotta delete some video files off the camera's storage card before your father sees them."

"You can do that?"

"With a bit of technical know-how, yeah."

"How will you access the storage card?"

"I pop it out of a slot in the back of the unit, like ejecting a CD or disk."

Michelle frowned.

"What?"

"I don't think that's how dad's system works."

"What do you mean?"

"He showed me the camera unit, and I didn't see a slot in the back."

"Sometimes it's underneath."

"It _did_ have a cable coming out of the back."

"That's probably just the power cable."

"Are power cable blue?"

He wanted to scream. Blue wasn't power—blue was a dedicated data connection. "Where did the cable go?"

"Along the top of the bookcase, down the side to the baseboard, then along and through a hole in the wall into the cupboard in the corner."

He knew exactly which cupboard she meant—it was where Andrew had installed all of his computer and data storage equipment. "Been a while since I looked at it closely, but I remember the door of that cupboard having a lock."

"It does, yes."

William swore under his breath.

But his plan wasn't dead in the water yet.

He went back to his phone to text U BRING YOUR LOCK-PICKING TOOLS?

OF COURSE

Jesus, what a pair they made—they couldn't even go for a family visit without bringing a high-end government computer and a highly dubious set of tools mostly used by car thieves and burglars.

BRING THEM WITH U

"Kirill can deal with the lock," he told Michelle.

"Do I even _want_ to know what the hell that means?"

"You'll sleep better if you don't."

"Dad's pretty good about his passwords, you know. If he's put one on the storage drive, it won't be 'password' or his date of birth. It'll be something you could never guess."

William tapped on the laptop lid. "I've got software on this that'll handle that for me."

She covered her ears with her hands. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that."

"I'm not doing anything illegal."

Her response was a withering glare.

He held up a deflecting hand. "Okay, I'm doing something that's _slightly_ illegal, but the alternative'll be even worse." He leaned over to give her a kiss. "Shouldn't take long, but don't wait up."

With his laptop tucked under his arm, he unlocked and slipped out the door.

********************

The dining room was quiet and still. The Hummels were his only companions—there was no sign of his younger brother.

He leaned out to peer down the hall that led to the breakfast room and the kitchen, knowing the staircase at the rear of the house was the shortest route to Kate and Kirill's suite, but it was equally bereft of a human presence.

He turned to check the hall behind him, and nearly jumped out of his skin as Kirill appeared out of thin air. "How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that?" he whispered angrily at his twin.

For once, Kirill didn't complain. "What is the plan?" he asked instead.

By way of response, William padded across the hall and slipped through the office door. With Kirill following closely behind, he snuck around the edge of the room until he reached the recessed cupboard in the far corner. He muttered a prayer, grabbed the door handle and pushed it down.

It didn't budge.

Not to worry—he had another plan ready to go.

He tapped on the slot for the key. "Can you jimmy this?" he asked his twin.

Kirill nodded and pulled a small, leather pouch from his pocket. He popped it open and drew out a pair of thin metal tools. "Bumping it would make too much noise, and might damage the equipment inside, so I will have to pick it instead."

William stepped out of the way. "Have at it."

Kirill kneeled down, peered at the lock, sighed, cursed and stood back up.

"Something wrong?" William asked.

"Cannot get into this lock."

That wasn't what William wanted to hear. "I thought you could pick anything?"

" _Almost_ anything," Kirill explained, putting his tools back in his pouch. "This is a Medeco lock with six rotating bottom pins. It can be picked, but only with a special tool."

"A special tool I'm guessing you don't have in your set," William glumly concluded.

"No."

His second plan went the way of the first. "We need to find another way to get into the drive."

"We _could_ set the house on fire. Kill two birds with one stone, as Katenka is so fond of saying."

That was a conclusion too far even for William's brain. "I'm sorry, but how the _fuck_ would burning down my in-laws' house kill two birds with one stone?"

"Would get rid of the camera footage and the Hummels at the same time," Kirill said, gesturing at an ugly trio of figurines on the equally ugly corner table.

Okay, so Kirill had a good point there. "Jesus, the Hummels, yeah."

" _Hideous_ things," Kirill complained. "If you ever need proof of why rampant capitalism is a bad idea, start with Hummel figurines."

"Aunt Abigail used to collect them as well. Must be a Catholic thing."

"She _was_ a nun."

"Who?"

"The woman who made the original sketches on which the figurines are based. Miss Hummel. Or Sister Hummel. Or Mother Hummel. Or whatever the fuck she was called."

"Really?"

"Viko, are you _sure_ you were raised in the Catholic Church?"

William smirked. "Yeah, but I stopped giving a crap about church when I discovered women and beer." Not that he'd given much of a damn even before that watershed moment.

"That happens, yes."

William scanned the shelves, looking for the camera unit. It was nestled between two piles of books, but the blinking blue light gave it away. His stomach sank. The blinking meant the device was on, and recording everything in the room, including their current visit. "Let's go work on this somewhere else. I know it sounds weird, but I don't want the system recording what we're about to do."

They retreated as quietly as they'd arrived, heading for the dining room at the other side of the hall. By unspoken agreement, they chose two seats on the other side of the table, giving them a clear view of the office door, and more importantly, of the wall-hugging staircase on the right.

William set his laptop down, cracked the lid and stabbed the power button to bring it to life. As he waited for the login prompt to appear, he asked, "How much footage are we talking about here anyway?"

Kirill shrugged. "Am not sure. Was not one of our marathon sessions, so maybe forty to forty-five minutes?"

Jesus. Only someone as oversexed as Kirill could think forty-five solid minutes of sex didn't count as a marathon session. Even thinking about the physical effort required made William want to go back to bed.

The prompt appeared; William entered his username and the number from his RSA fob. "Do I even _want_ to know what the two of you did?"

"We _fucked_ , Viko," Kirill said in a matter-of-fact but impatient tone. "Quietly but vigorously. In a variety of extremely stimulating positions."

"So amateur porn, is what you're saying."

"Without the dubious dialogue, yes."

The boot-up virus scanner kicked in. "You realize you're only in this whole mess cus you can't listen to anyone tell you a story without taking it as a personal challenge?"

"The simple solution is to never tell me a story."

"The simpler solution is for you to accept you don't always have to do something bigger and better than everyone else."

"Where is the fun in that?"

"I dunno. Where's the fun in giving your girlfriend's mother and father the chance to watch you bang their daughter into next week?"

"Maybe they would appreciate the opportunity to witness a master at work."

"For the sake of your physical and my mental health, I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that." He opened the Wi-Fi list—the nearest house was a mile away, so there was only one network in it. "Password was 'topsecret', right?"

Kirill nodded. "With a zero instead of an 'oh', and all lowercase."

Not the weakest password William had ever seen, but not exactly uncrackable, either. "Let's see what an IP scan of the network turns up." He clicked 'OK'; a list of devices appeared.

Kirill leaned in to peer at the screen. "Try that one," he said, pointing to the fourth entry down. "That company makes high-end media storage drives."

"Should be able to connect to it directly," William murmured, typing the device's IP address into another Explorer window. "Then, all we have to do is find and delete the files." He winced as a login prompt appeared. "Thought that might happen."

"Your laptop has the password cracking software, yes?"

William nodded and hit Ctrl—Alt—A to activate the software in question.

"You have it set as a keyboard shortcut?" Kirill asked, sounding surprised.

"I use it a lot."

"On what?"

"Can't tell you."

Kirill huffed. "Can't or won't?"

"What's the difference?"

"Can't means you are not allowed, won't means you are being a jerk."

"Not sure anyone who thinks of himself as a sexual master has the right to call another person a jerk."

"A man should always know what his talents are."

"Except when the talent in question is boning your girlfriend on her father's desk."

Alarmingly, that seemed to be a talent they shared…

William reissued the camera connection request, but this time, from within the password hacking program. The software behind it went to work. The progress bar slowly crawled from left to right as the program searched for the password value.

"Dictionary or Brute Force?" Kirill asked.

"Sorry?"

"The hacking software. Does it use the Dictionary method, or is it running a Brute Force attack?"

"Right, uh, Brute Force with rainbow tables, I think."

"Will it work?"

"The cyber group ran a benchmark test last month, it cracked fifteen thousand complex passcodes in less than twenty hours. Getting into a simple domestic system like this should be a piece of cake."

"What if Mister McNally is using some kind of second-level authentication?"

"You mean like an RSA token?"

"Yes."

Good question. No tool on his laptop computer or in Kirill's leather pouch could provide a solution for that. "I go upstairs to make gratuitous love to my wife and beg her not to divorce me, you go outside to tie some weights around your ankles and quietly drown yourself in the pool."

"Funny."

"You think I'm kidding, but you've never seen Andrew McNally when he's pissed. I have, and it's a _seriously_ ugly sight. Worse than the tantrums you used to throw as a child. Drowning'll be nice and clean compared to what he'll do to you if he sees your homemade porn. Especially since you made it with his favourite daughter. _And_ on his precious desk."

Kirill scrunched his face. "What is so precious about the desk?"

"He bought it from some chateau in France. Previous owner said it used to belong to Napoleon."

"Really?"

"Apparently, yeah."

"If I had known that, I would have taken a shit on the blotting pad as well."

"Why the _fuck_ would you want to take a dump on somebody's desk?"

" _Really_ , Viko?" Kirill complained in a voice absolutely dripping with scorn. "One side of our heritage is Russian, and you want to know why I would shit on a piece of furniture _Napoleon_ owned?"

William snickered. "Okay, yeah, fair point. Would be like me going to England and taking a dump on the lawn at Buckingham Palace."

"What did the English ever do to you?"

"Nothing to me personally, but during the War of 1812, the British invaded Washington and burned the White House to the ground."

"Was the President of the time in it when they set it on fire?"

"Sadly, no."

"Then it is not a good enough excuse."

"Nigel made me go to a cricket match once. Can I use that?"

Kirill groaned. "Absolutely. Cricket is a _terrible_ game. Being made to watch it for even an hour is definitely a good excuse for taking a shit on somebody's lawn."

The blue progress bar disappeared, to be replaced by a dialogue box showing an enormous green tick, which meant the software had computed a match. _Password Located_ the caption said. Such a lovely euphemism—as if the program had simply found the password lying around in a cardboard box. _Would you like to apply it to the selected device?_

"Yes, I absolutely would," William said.

They froze as they heard feet clomping on wood—someone was coming down the stairs.

William swore, gently closed the laptop lid and leaned over to drop to the floor, roughly yanking Kirill down with him. The dining room was completely dark, and the chairs had chunky, wooden legs, so unless they made a distracting sound, it was highly unlikely they would be seen.

The footsteps stopped at the end of the stairs, as if the owner was pausing to check out the lobby. Someone yawned and sniffed.

 _Daniel_ , Kirill silently mouthed—Andrew and Helen's middle child—the spoiled, obnoxious only son.

William had never cared for him, and going on what he'd witnessed today, Kirill wasn't in imminent danger of joining the younger man's fan club, either.

The footsteps resumed, heading towards the kitchen at the rear of the house. Once they had passed, Kirill whispered, "He mentioned at dinner that he has been having some trouble sleeping."

"We better hope he's only here for a glass of milk. If he's come down to watch TV instead, we'll have to move somewhere else."

A few minutes later, Daniel shuffled back into the hall. He paused to squeak out a sonorous fart then slowly plodded back up the stairs.

Kirill puffed out a sigh of relief. "That could have been _extremely_ annoying."

"When Daniel's involved, it's _always_ extremely annoying."

"You don't like him either, then?"

William reclaimed his seat, then extended a hand to help Kirill up, knowing his leg would give him some pain. "Let's just say he's not one of my favourite people."

"He seems to be very fond of golf."

"He's an investment banker. Course he's very fond of golf. Practically a religion for him."

"You don't like the sport?"

"Can't stand it. Every time Dan tells me how low his handicap is, I have to seriously fight off the urge to inflict a painful one on him for real."

Kirill frowned. "If you don't like golf, why do you have that autographed golf ball on the shelf in your office at work?"

"It was a gift, I didn't want to keep it at home, and I didn't know where else to put it."

"Who from?"

"Who do you think?"

"Daniel?"

"Don't be ridiculous. He's never bought me a gift in his life. Would mean spending some of his ill-gotten gains on something other than golf clubs or cars."

"Mister McNally?" was Kirill's second guess.

"You got it."

"Does he like golf as much as his son?"

William snorted. "Thinks Arnold Palmer was the second coming of Christ."

"Who is Arnold Palmer?"

"Kir, however this all works out tonight, do _not_ ask that question at breakfast tomorrow. You'll honestly make the old man cry."

"Is not knowing who Arnold Palmer is better or worse than banging his daughter into next week on his beloved Napoleon desk?"

"Good question. Not sure I know the answer. Might need to defer to Mike on that one."

William powered his laptop back up. Once the software was running again, he clicked 'OK' to connect to the drive, then rummaged around until he found what looked like the media store. The files were easy to isolate—everything else in the folder was from much earlier in the day, or from the night before. Forty-two minutes worth of footage, according to the timestamps at the beginning and end.

He seized the opportunity to have some fun at his brother's expense. "You know, when Mike and I did this back in oh-one, we were down in the office for over an hour."

Sadly, Kirill refused to rise to the challenge. "You mentioned that, but Kate and I decided speed was of the essence tonight."

"Of course."

"Besides, for all that it was a slightly hurried affair, the final score was still five-two, which I think is rather impressive."

"Wait a minute, you're telling me you managed to get it up _twice_ in forty-two minutes?"

"Yes."

"You're almost forty fucking years old," William hotly pointed out. "Which means either you took a Viagra with dinner, or you're talking out of your Russian ass."

Kirill gestured at the computer. "You don't believe me, watch the camera footage."

"Wouldn't help. The files are only seven-twenty. Would need to be at _least_ ten-eighty to be able to make out something that small."

"I'll have you know that my equipment is _perfectly_ sized."

"What idiot woman did you pay to tell you that?"

Kirill drew a breath to retort, frowned and promptly blew it out again.

William grinned, sensing a win. "What's the matter, you couldn't come up with an outrageously witty comeback in time?"

"I was about to say 'your wife', then I realized how inappropriate that would be."

"Good choice."

"I thought so, yes."

The sparring concluded, William returned to cleaning up the camera footage. He selected all twenty-three files—one for every two minutes of action—plus the two files from their recent, investigatory visit, then moved his finger to the 'Delete' key.

Just as he was about to press it, Kirill's hand shot out to grab his arm around the wrist. "Before you do that, can you copy the files to your drive?" his brother asked.

"What the fuck for?"

"Why do you care?"

"How about the fact it's a government computer, and using it to store or watch porn's a with-cause firing offence?"

"So is using a government computer to hack into your father-in-law's home security system."

"That's different," William huffed.

"How?" Kirill wanted to know. He held up a threatening finger. "And if you even _think_ about saying 'it just is', it won't be me who ends up drowned in the pool."

Dammit, that was _exactly_ what he'd been going to say. "Okay, then how about the fact it's not just you in the video footage? What would Kate think of you wanting to keep it?"

"She won't care."

"You sure about that?"

Kirill shrugged. "Will not be the first dirty movie we have made."

"Really?"

"Really."

"That's _so_ wrong," William muttered, suddenly desperate to go back to bed and hold his sensible, risk-averse wife.

"You and Michelle have never recorded yourselves having sex?"

"Uh, no?"

"How strange."

"I hate to tell you, Kir, but I'm pretty sure most normal, married couples don't record themselves having sex."

"Another good reason not to be normal or get married, then."

"Don't let Helen hear you say that," William warned. "The way she smiled when you guys announced you were buying a house together, I'm pretty sure she's already gone into full-on, wedding arranger mode."

Kirill groaned and pressed his palms to his eyes. "What the fuck is it with women and weddings? Helen is an educated and intelligent woman. Does she not have a burned-out church to restore or some abandoned puppies to save?"

"Could always do what Mike and I did, put a bun in your girlfriend's oven, use it as the perfect excuse to have a shotgun wedding instead. I mean, it _is_ an Orlov family tradition."

"I'm sorry, did we not previously agree that we would _never_ talk about marriage or children?" Kirill protested, slightly too loudly for William's liking.

"You started it," William shot back, making a sign to keep the noise down.

"Did not."

"Did too."

"How?"

"You fucked Kate in our basement shower."

He didn't mention the incident with the living room rug.

Kirill gave him a shit-eating grin. "I did, yes."

Sighing, William created a folder on his computer, gave it an innocuous name, then copied over the camera data. Once the copy process had finished, he deleted the originals from the media drive, logged out and closed the password cracking program. "There," he announced. "Signed, sealed and delivered. When you come down for breakfast tomorrow, you won't have to wear your bulletproof vest." He switched off the laptop and closed the lid.

Kirill's chair scraped back. "Thank you, _brat_. What would I do without you around to keep me safe?"

"Don't mention it," William drily said. "Literally. Like, please, don't _ever_ talk to me about this again." He wrinkled his nose. "Especially the bit about how the two of you have recorded yourselves doing the beast with two backs. _Way_ more than I ever wanted to know."

Kirill flipped him a salute. "See you in the morning," he said, then stepped round the table into the hall and disappeared as surreptitiously as he'd arrived.

William quietly climbed the stairs, paused to briefly look in on the kids, then headed back to his own bed.

The bedroom was more or less dark, but a reading light by the window was on. He took that as an encouraging sign. He'd told Michelle not to wait up, but he also had some important, husbandly business to finish.

As he shoved his laptop into his bag, Michelle sleepily murmured, "Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he said, slipping out of his jeans. "My plans for the night are ruined, but Kirill and Kate won't face the Spanish Inquisition over their pancakes and eggs."

"What plans are those?" she asked.

"I was gonna figure out how to peel you out of your lovely new slip," he told her as he reached for the quilt.

She smiled and yanked the covers back, revealing a delectable view. "S'okay, hon. Took care of that problem for you already."

The sight of all that naked flesh made his heart race and his abdomen clench. "How could I ever refuse an offer like that?"

"If you know what's good for you, Cooper, you won't."

As she spoke, she stretched her arms above her head and kicked the covers down to her feet, showing him more delectable skin. It was more than any heterosexual man with a pulse could ever hope to resist. "I do. Know what's good for me, that is."

She curled a finger to beckon him in. "Then stop talking, and get your butt back into this bed."

********************

Michelle gave her slumbering husband a shake.

A firm one, but not _too_ firm—for all that Will was a heavy sleeper, he was also a former marine. She didn't want her attempt to rouse him to end with swinging fists and broken bones, especially since their hook-up last night had already left her aching and sore.

He groaned and stuck his head under the pillow.

"Honey, you need to get up," she urged. And this time, in a less passionate way.

Slowly but surely, like a bear sensing the coming of spring, William emerged from his comfortable den. It _wasn't_ a pretty sigh. He looked as if he'd been ridden hard and put away wet, which, now she thought about it again, he more or less had.

She hoped his knees and shoulder blades were as bruised and tender as hers.

He squinted, blinked and licked his lips. "Time is it?" he croaked.

"Just after eight." Late for her, but early for him.

He groaned again and tried to burrow back into the bed.

"You need to get up," she repeated, giving his shoulder another shake. "There's a problem downstairs, and Kirill's about to lose his shit. He sent me to fetch you."

That got her husband's attention. "What kind of problem?" he asked.

"Something to do with the security camera down in the office. Dad's on the phone with the guy who installed it."

William sat up, scrubbed his face, threw back the covers and swung his feet onto the floor. "We deleted all of the footage recorded last night, so not sure why Kir's losing his shit."

"Dad said something about an audit file?" Michelle explained. "That it has data in it, but the folder on the server doesn't?"

"Oh, _fuck_ ," William whispered, eyes going wide in shock. "I totally forgot about that."

She handed him his t-shirt and jeans. "Forgot about what?"

"The camera's an audit-enabled system, so when it detects a motion event, as well as recording what's actually happening in the room, it also logs that it's detected something."

"And you forgot to clean out that log," she wearily concluded.

"I did, yeah."

She didn't say it, but that sounded like a newbie mistake. "So, dad knows something happened last night, but since you deleted the video files, he doesn't know what the camera saw."

"Right."

"Which is why he's on the phone to the camera company guy." At eight o'clock on a Sunday morning, no less. But that was her father to a 'T'—what he wanted _always_ came first, regardless of how inconvenient it was for the other people involved.

William shrugged, pulled on his clothes, then ran his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten the spikes into place. "Won't help. If the files are gone, the files are gone. Your dad can rage about it as much as he wants."

"If that's the case, why does Kirill have a weird look on his face, like he's about to fake his own death and run screaming into the hills?"

William paused to think, scratched his stomach, then suddenly gave her a stricken look. "I only used a normal delete," he murmured.

"What?"

"When I removed the files from the server, I pressed the Delete button on the keyboard. I didn't run a Secure Erase."

"Which means?"

"Which means the files don't show up in the folder, but the data segments are still on the disk, so they're not completely deleted."

She understood that—the IT guy at her work had once recovered some deleted images for her. "So the camera guy on the phone could be talking dad through the steps to recover the stuff you removed?"

"He could, yeah."

Now she understood Kirill's fear. "Which means we could be five minutes away from everybody in the house watching the homemade Orlov-McNally version of _Basic Instinct_ or _Last Tango In Paris_?"

William threw on his clothes, grabbed his laptop out of his bag and set it out on the dressing table. "If I can get back into the folder before your dad and the camera guy, I can run a Secure Erase, delete the video footage for good."

"You do that. I'll go downstairs, let Kirill know you're working on it. Tell him to hold off writing his will."

"Try to distract your dad as much as you can. Put the radio on really loud. Bring Boomer in to play with the kids. When he's looking the other way, set a kitchen towel on fire and pull the phone cable out of the wall."

She marched to the door, ready and willing to go into battle to save her sister and husband's brother.

"But just in case I don't get there before them," William called out as she stepped into the hall, "can you tell Kirill to go find some weights and check if the swimming pool cover's still on?"


End file.
